


When Troy's walls crumble who will pick up the pieces?

by Anonymous



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: <- they do be minecraft respawnin tho, Abusive Relationships, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Partial Mind Control, Poisoning, Retelling, Stalking, Stockholm Syndrome, Temporary Character Death, Unrequited Love, emphasis on comfort later, no beta we die like men, this is basically helen of troy but if it were technoblade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28067196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Technoblade did not ever look in the mirror and see things others saw. He did not notice that his fair skin and pink hair would be seen as anything other than hair and skin and that the tusks he had since he was a boy would be the subject of late-night thoughts.He did not realize that just like Helen he had the audacity to be born beautifulOr,Technoblade may call his brother Theseus but this mfer really out here getting helen of troy-ed.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), technoblade/original male characters
Comments: 166
Kudos: 613
Collections: Anonymous





	1. It Begins And Ends

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like i should say that no non-con will occur in this story. Nothing of that type will happen here unless the plot really does call for it and in that scenario, it will NOT be shown, only talked about/mentioned. Yes this is me projecting my greek mythology love and childhood trauma onto technoblade n what about it <3

Technoblade wakes up on a Sunday afternoon and stares into the eyes of a man he has never seen before. 

“I have won you,” the man says, factual and cold with a shrug of his shoulders, “my Lord of Seals won over your god of blood and for my aid he gave me your hand. We are to wed sometime soon, I was thinking of the spring? That way our new beginning can match up with new beginning of the year.” 

Technoblade takes a moment because the man says it as though he was talking about the weather or a trip down to the town. He’s roughly Technoblade’s height and wearing ugly iron armour that hugs his figure in protectiveness. Killing him would not take much, but Techno is tired. 

“Funny you say that,” Technoblade begins, sitting up and kicking his legs over the bedside, “because fun fact, you literally can’t just give away someone else's hand in marriage. Pretty sure that’s illegal.” 

“By winning the bet your Blood God let the Lord of Seals choose anything he wishes from the Blood Gods hoard. My Lord chose a prime cut of meat and I chose you. Everything here was within the terms. Nothing illegal has occured.”

“Heh?” 

“What?”

“What’s the uh, thing you were talking about?” Techno asks, shifting,

“The bet?”

“.. yeah sorry the what now?”

“Were you unaware?” The man says, cool facade cracking for a split second, “were you unaware of the bet those two divine beings had going?”

“Gonna be honest, I know about absolutely nothing he does in his own free time. Like yeah sure we talk but it’s mainly him trolling me, y’know? Telling me I missed diamonds while mining when I didn’t. Yelling the letter E for some reason. Didn’t tell me he was doing this though. Kinda explains why he’s been quiet for a while now.” 

“Yes well,” The man forces his back to straighten even more and bows, leaving Technoblade to wonder just how much of a dick he really is if he’s doing things like that, “My name is Hiraeth. I am Prince of Hesthers, third in line to the throne.” 

“Are you the youngest?”

“I - yes, i am the youngest.”

“Of course you’re the youngest.” 

“I’m terribly sorry, just what does that mean?” 

“Nothing,” Technoblade says, casting a glance around the room for his stuff and frowning when nothing appeared, just decorations that would make even the richest man wince, “anyways I’ll be leaving now. Thanks for the uh, update in godly business? I guess?”

Technoblade stands up and stops. Something clicks into place, like a slot finally fitting. A numbness starts to take over his body and his exhaustion triples making him wish desperately for a nap despite the fact he just woke up. There is an alarm blaring in his chest but not the proper amount, he realizes. Everything is just.. muted. Greyed out. 

“What did you do?” Technoblade asks Hiraeth. His instincts are telling him to run and fight the same way the inner voice in his head used to tell him when he was young that he really should work on this project. That he should do it, should follow the advice, but doesn’t really want to. There’s no urgency pumping him.

It’s frightening. 

“It was a gift from my Lord,” Hiraeth smiles, a look of pure adoration on his face, “they are good, are they not? Our gods? They are kind to us when we do not deserve it and give us things like this. I am warmed by his generosity. He said you may react this way so he prepared it accordingly.” 

“...you knew this was going to happen?” and there were still sparks of fire burning bright enough inside him to feel rage, to feel . He knew and didn’t warn him because - why? Why? 

“Yes, I did.” Hiraeth walks closer and grabs a box off of the bedside table, cautiously keeping a foot between them. “I did know this was going to occur and I will not lie to you, I am quite pleased, if you will, that it did.”   
“Why?” Technoblade asks because all of it comes down to that: why? Why why why why why?

“I saw you,” Hiraeth begins, “back when you first started competing in Hypixel. I was jealous at the start. You were fifteen and already so great whereas I was twenty and accomplished, yes, but not in the way you were. I knew with time you’d become someone great and that made me envy you.” 

He takes a hesitant step forward, placing a gentle hand on Technoblade’s cheek and Technoblade considers how easy it’d be to turn his head just the slightest and bite it. “Except soon I noticed that you were not a beast or a warrior but a rose using it’s thorns. You were soft. You’d meow back at cats and give children extra bread rolls when you’d go out in the market, you’d have weekly conversations with your father and in battle you were not what they said you were. They said you were cruel and merciless but I noticed how clean your kills were. You didn’t leave others in pain. You never lied to them about their ends, either. You were beautiful and ethereal. I fell and why would I not take the chance when I had it? Would you not? Would any man not?” 

First of all, gross. Since he was fifteen, really? Tommy was sixteen and Technoblade knew that if anyone looked at him the way Hiraeth apparently looked at Techno when he was that age Techno would skin them alive. Full grown adults should not be looking at children like that. What the fuck. 

Secondly, how did he know all of this? How much more did he know? How many quiet moments of bliss did he watch? How many personal moments that Techno took for himself did this man see. How many happy memories of hypixel were now soured? 

“I think you should move away from me before I kill you.” Technoblade says and the threat tastes hollow. Facts are piling up against the forced indifference he feels and his body and mind can’t disagree with just how sketch this situation is becoming. He can leave, Techno thinks. He feels like he can leave. He doesn’t feel enough to kill him, though. Not yet. He probably won’t until whatever the hell he’s under wears off. 

Hiraeth backs off, holding the box in front of him like a shield. “I implore you to understand. As my intended I will never force you into situations that make you uncomfortable. I will live for you and die for you. Any wish you have would be granted-”

“I wish for you to get away from me, then.” 

“-and you will have to work for nothing. Nothing. You will finally get treated like you deserve. The golden canary finally free from the clutches of the hawk.” 

Hiraeth pauses, Technoblade still looking at him in apathy. Seeing the lack of power his words had, Hiraeth sighs. “I had hoped to bring this out later on,” he said, beginning to open the box, “I wanted to give you this tonight, in the gardens after supper. There is a little bench out there next to the roses, give this to you as a surprise. The first of many gifts you’d be receiving. Except now seems like it must be the time, huh?” 

Hiraeth carefully pulled out a choker. White lace adorned the sides with a solid grey gem in the middle. It was beautiful and Technoblade- 

Technoblade couldn’t breathe. 

He couldn’t move a muscle either and his eyes kept focusing in on that gem. His muscles weren’t responding to him. He couldn’t take in a breath. Would his heart also stop? His kidneys? What was enchanted on that necklace? 

“Here,” Hiraeth said, quickening his steps to reach Techno’s side in a moment and gently clasped the necklace around his neck. Technoblade took in a gasp of air as control went back to him. “How do you feel?” 

What type of question was that? How did he feel? How did he feel after having all control stripped away from him and being unable to breathe? How did he feel? 

…..He felt like he didn’t want to leave. 

He felt like he wanted to look out the window and feel the breeze or get a nice cup of lavender tea but not run away or kill Hiraeth like he deserved. He felt tired but not numb but he just couldn’t focus his energy in the direction of anger. It slithered away every chance until he just sat in this sort of abyss of nothing. 

“What did you do?” Technoblade asks, curiously touching the gem. It felt hot against his fingers and he put his hand back down, “I mean this sort of thing takes some serious enchantment. Controlling the brain? Whole other league then some simple speed boosts.” 

Hiraeth laughs, cautiously holding the hand Technoblade just put down. “My kingdom is rich. With enough money anything can be down. I told you, you would want for nothing here, and I was not joking. I can give you a hundred nether stars if you ask for it.” 

“Even the moon?”

“That may take some work but give us a few days.” Hiraeth jokes, curling his fingers in between Techno’s. “I can promise you that you’ll come to like it here. This is a nice place with wonderful people.” 

‘Sure. Wonderful people who kidnap others,’ Techno thought blandly to himself. ‘Real upstanding citizens if their nobility is leading like this.’

“You have any lavender tea?” Technoblade asks. He doesn’t care. Doesn’t care about this odd man and the situation he’s in, the seriousness of it all knocking and pounding on the door but being ignored. He did care that the February weather was causing a chill to settle in his bones and that his throat was itching from the dry air.

“You, my dearest, can have all the lavender tea you wish.”


	2. Rich people should have less rights, Technoblade thinks.

The story goes that there was a young woman named Helen who was of Sparta. Aphrodite gifted Helen to Paris because she had the audacity to be born beautiful and he had the audacity of choice. The story will leave out that she was kind and smart and strong because the moment she is not a prop, an item to be swapped around, she loses all use.

Technoblade read those stories in the dead of night and laughed quietly at it all. Helen came from Sparta, she was taught how to fight, why did she not fight back? Why send a thousand ships? Why fight over one person when in the end nothing was attained?

He understood the premise and all but just didn’t get the _why_. It was just petty. A pissing match over a single woman no one asked the opinion of. End of the day, he chalked it up to not understanding romantic attraction and left it at that, focusing more on stories about heroes like Perseus and Atalanta. 

It comes crashing down in his mine that in this story he is Helen. 

(He did not ever look in the mirror and see things others saw. He did not notice that his fair skin and pink hair would be seen as anything other than hair and skin and that the tusks he had since he were a boy would be the subject of late night thoughts. 

He did not realize that just like Helen he had the audacity to be born beautiful.) 

He drank a cup of lavender tea while looking out at the estates garden. It was beautiful, honestly. There were hydrangeas, colours of blue, purple and pink reminding Techno of a sunset. Roses were darted in between them, some grey with others being blue. He could spot the rare white rose here and there. 

The tea was nice. 

It soothed his throat and settled the cold that made a home in his core. Sorts out the wandering thoughts plaguing him. What even was the bet that got him into this mess? He hopes it was something important, something life or death. Not over something small like who could best the other in checkers or get the most sheep in a day. 

Technoblade looks out at the garden and thinks of leaving. He is capable of it. He can move his legs and get up and walk right out there. Guards may stop him but he could just resist. Tell them to fuck off and knock out anyone who physically attempts to keep him here. 

He does not want to. 

It is not that the lavender tea is _that_ good. Technoblade does not look at Hiraeth with love or yearning. He looks at him and sees an asshole who doesn’t understand things like conversation and introductions. One who likely reads too many love stories written by young authors who do not quite understand that there is more to love than just the feeling of it. 

There is nothing keeping him here except for the fact that it would take so much work to leave. He would have to steal supplies, clothing and food. Find wherever Hiraeth put his communicator or travel to whatever towns they have in this world and buy one as a wanted man. If it’s the case of the latter then there’s even more issues. He’ll have to steal whatever currency they use here, steal a horse, navigate things. 

And for what? To leave? 

(His mind flickers to the images of a blond man with gentle hands and even gentler eyes passing him a potion of regeneration. Of a brother with brown hair and calloused fingers who will not shut up and another who steals his things and laughs about it without remorse. He thinks of his family and the tiny little potato farm Phil set aside for him after he won the war and the laughter that came from his father when Techno told him that he never wanted to see a potato ever again after those eight months. A little voice inside him yells _yes, yes, run now. Run for them. Run little one until you can run no more, until the breath in your lungs weeps and the soles of your feet bleed. Run until you are with the ones you love._

He ignores it.) 

He heads back inside and wanders the halls, idly looking for the library. Technoblade isn’t ashamed to admit that he knows nothing about Hesthers. It can’t be a big server but the money they have to afford the interior decorations adorning the manors insides means it has to be plentiful in _something_. It’s something Technoblade needs to know. 

He finds it finally after an hour of getting lost and going in circles. Rows upon rows of bookshelves greet him but the covers all look new. The fireplace in the middle of the room roars quietly, wood crackling, but as far as Technoblade can see no one else is here. 

He moves towards the dustiest bookshelf, although he has to give the estates staff their due - none of it can really be classified as dusty. He grabs a book with a maroon cover and begins reading, sitting on a comfortable chair next to the fireplace. 

Technoblade learns that the kingdom of Hesthers main export is ores, specifically diamonds and emerald. They are known for their rich cultural activities and large abundance of artists, being a beacon of civility to fellow kingdoms. The last part is probably horseshit, Techno thinks. It is easy to create artists and run festivals when your people are not starving or stuck in a faminine. It is easy to be on top of the world when you do not lend a helping hand to those around you. 

The neighboring kingdoms are Esthers and Aesthers, respectively east and south of Hesthers and their coastline. According to the book the founders of these kingdoms were dearest friends who matched kingdom names in a show of allyship. Nowadays though? That apparent bond is no longer as tight as it once was, and Technoblade thinks about how easy it might be to get a coup going. 

It’d be an even worse waste of his time then escaping, but it’s a fun thought process. 

“Excuse me, sir?” A voice calls out and Technoblade startles, forgetting that he is not the only one in existence. Turning, he looks at the intruder. It is a woman around his age, plain clothed an. She has brown hair tied up and his eyes zero in on the anxious wringing her hands. If he had to wager a guess he’d say that she’s one of the estates staff, probably new. 

“I apologize for uh, intruding and scaring you my uh, lord!” and Techno nearly winces at how nervous she sounds, “but it is almost dinnertime and His Royal Highness wishes for you to dine with him, in the uh, dining room! Meaning you need to get dressed for it.” 

This is why Techno hates rich people, he thinks. It’s because they have things like getting dressed specially for a meal and do it daily, as though it’s of some importance.That they have separate rooms for the staff and themselves as though there is any difference between the two of them. Food is _food_. Nothing more and nothing less. It doesn’t deserve a circus. 

“Ugh, fine,” Technoblade says, rising out of his seat. He leaves the book on a small table next to the chair and stretches, sighing contentedly as he hears his back crack. He looks at the woman and he doesn’t want to make small talk but Phil would have a heart attack if he didn’t show some basic manners. “What’s your name?”

“Oh! It’s uh, Elaina my lord,” She pauses for a moment as though she were a deer realizing it is facing its final moments at the hands of a knocked back bow, and courtesies low enough to kiss the floor. “If you would follow me, His Royal Highness has assigned you a room with clothing in it!”

He follows her. She does not look him in the eye once, and with each twisting corridor her steps hurry as though she wishes to be as far away from him as possible. It is cute, he thinks. He remembers being the same around Wilbur when he was young, practically pasting himself to Phil’s side instead. Worried that if he made Wilbur mad in any way he’d go to Phil and Techno would get kicked out. He saw the cycle repeat with Tommy and a smile tugs at his lips. 

For as much as he liked to pretend he knew everything when he was young, he really was a fool. 

“Here is your room!” Elaina squeaks out, “there are clothes laid out on the bed. Normally we would have someone in there to dress you but uh, we were told it might make you uncomfortable? If you wish for there to be someone though then just let us know!” 

Oh thank god. If he had someone dress him then he’d die of shame. “Thanks,” Techno says and opens the door. The room is alright, Technoblade decides. The blue and grey colour scheme reminds him vaguely of the sea but it is big and the bed looks soft. Technoblade has slept in worse places than this. 

He grabs the clothing off the bed and frowns. He puts on the top which has some type of puffed sleeves, reminding him of a pirate from stories he’d see in the market. The trousers are a comfortable black, made out of silk. He takes one look at the corset vest and tosses it across the room. 

There are glittering rings and diamond emeralds sitting on a vanity next to the window that he elects to ignore. Instead he takes a pale blue ribbon and undoes his hair, gently brushing it out and rebraiding it. 

Looking at the image in the mirror, Technoblade frowns. It’s not his usual getup and if Tommy saw him like this the little gremlin would just look at him with furrowed brows and yell at him to change because ‘ _you look weird dude, like what the fuck. I don’t like it.’_

Technoblade touches the choker still on his neck and - pauses. His hands travel to the clasp at the back of his neck. He could just take it off, right? Be done with this weird feeling shit and maybe get his mojo back from wherever it’s gone and been locked up. 

He pulls his hands back from his neck in record speed when pain rockets through them. Technoblade sits there for a moment, looking at the reddened fingertips pulsing with pain and snorts. Of course it wasn’t gonna be that easy. _Of course_. Nothing ever is. 

A knock hits his door and Techno’s out of there in a minute. Another servant leads him to the dining room and just like Elaina he does not meet Techno’s eyes. He’s much more professional though, pace steady and sure, head always facing straight. They make it to the dining room and the man leaves after pulling out Techno’s chair without even a glance back.

Hiraeth enters and smiles at him, a servant pulling back his own chair. He gestures for Techno to sit and he does, glancing down at the overpriced cutlery in front of him. They are seated at opposite sides and it’d be so easy to jump over the table and throttle him. He wouldn’t even have to blink. 

He looks at his empty wine glass instead.

Hiraeth snaps his fingers and food begins to pour in, steaming meats and buttered breads. Pastries are left next to stews and there is so much food waste here that it should be illegal. At Hiraeth’s nod another servant brings in a wine bottle and Technoblade watches his glass get filled to the top with amber liquid. 

There is a moment of horrible realization that for once in his life people are treating him like this not because of his own achievements but because of who he is associated with. Embarrassment flares up and his cheeks turn pink for no reason he can discern other than this is wrong. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be and it’s humiliating. 

“Would you care for some roast duck?” Hiraeth asks and before Techno can even respond someone has already cut pieces off of the bird and piled them onto his plate. Does he thank whoever did that? Is that the right course of action? This is not a situation Technoblade has been taught how to deal with. 

“How was your day?” Hiraeth asks and Technoblade takes a gulp of his drink, trying to hide his grimace as the liquid hits his tongue. Alcohol is not something he particularly enjoys, but he doesn’t want to answer. 

Except Hiraeth is looking at him and societal pressure forces him to respond. 

“It was, uh, alright?” He takes a bite of the duck and jesus fuck this duck is _divine._ Nothing should get to taste that good. 

“What’d you do?” 

Oh god, he expects a conversation. 

“I uhhhhhhh read? About your kingdom. Lotsa... cool things.”

Hiraeth visibly brightens, a smile forming on his face. “Yes, yes! It is a wondrous kingdom, is it not? I am lucky to guide such wonderful people.” 

“It’s certainly uh, something.” 

Dinner passes in stilted conversations and miles away a father frowns at the lack of weekly phone call, missed messages starting to pile up. A brother pauses strumming his guitar as a bad feeling passes through him and the youngest runs in the field with his best friend, unaware of what else is going on, 

Dinner ends and Technoblade could nearly cry from relief, until Hiraeth walks up to him with a purpose. 

“Would you join me for a stroll in the gardens?” Hiraeth asks and just _no_. 

“Not gonna lie, i’m kinda tired.” Technoblade replies because he has had enough interaction with Hiraeth for the rest of his life and if he has to hold another conversation with a stranger he will absolutely destroy his already frayed nerves. “Probably will turn in and uh, sleep.” 

“Of course, of course.” Hiraeth says, grabbing Technoblade’s hand, “It’s completely understandable after the day you had. I do hope though that tomorrow you may join me though, in the meantime I wish you a pleasant sleep.”

He leans down and kisses Technoblade’s hand before walking off, and a servant guides Techno back to his room. Closes the door as he changes into a chemise and climbs into bed in the dark room. 

Technoblade thinks about what Helen did those ten years in Troy and realizes that all she could do was survive. Live day by day until she can get out, and realization makes dread burn in his veins. 

Sleep does not find him that night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bro if i could get some uhhh comments i'd die happy. Also any ideas of what i should tag this shit with?? I Have Too Few Tags.


	3. Philza makes an appearance!

It was not Helen who launched a thousand ships but Menelaus. 

He did not do it out of greed. He did not do it because a possession of his was taken or his pride besmirched. He did it because he loved Helen with all his heart and in turn she loved him with all of hers. 

He did it because of early morning kisses and the pitter patter of tiny feet coming down the hallway. He did it because Helen was his wife, his partner, his other half, and she was no object to be stolen away. He did it for the same reason Paris chose: 

Love. 

Love, Technoblade thinks as he combs out his hair, the early morning sun casting through the large glass doors of the balcony, is the most annoying thing. Emotions are never easily understood but love just sucks. 

Technoblade knows he’d die for his family and he holds no regrets in that fact but evolutionary wise that seems counterproductive. It doesn’t make sense. He’d kill a hundred men for Wilbur but if his brother even _looks_ at Techno’s prized frying pan then it’s on. Quackity once called it the Cain instinct and Techoblade has never been able to find a better explanation than that. 

(Did Cain love Abel? Did Abel ever forgive him or are there some acts that can never be forgiven - actions that can never be taken back? Technoblade does not know which answer he dreads most.) 

His days progress in much the way as before. Hiraeth is kind and charming and an utter asshole. He does not step over any obvious boundaries but it is the small things that bother Technoblade. The held hands that end up kissed when the night is over, arms linking that pull him a bit too close and accidental touches to Techno’s waist. Nothing too great to waste energy on getting upset over, but enough that it disorients him for a moment. 

“Here,” Hiraeth says one afternoon, pulling him away from the library and into one of the sitting rooms that seem to go on forever, “I got this for you.”

It is a small parcel with blue wrapping paper and silk ribbon and undoing it shows off a circlet of silver and blue. It is beautiful and gorgeous and Technoblade is already halfway through throwing it across the room when his body just - stops. The circlet remains tightly clutched in his hands and his arms lower robotically and there is a sense of frustration bubbling up in his gut. _This is not a present_ , Technoblade thinks as Hiraeth beams, adjusting the circlet on Techno’s head to fit properly, _but a mockery._

(He was eight years old when Tommy came into his room, clutching an object nervously behind his back. It was a crown of gold and rubies that was too large to fit onto Techno’s head but the way Tommy lit up at the sight of it made a warm feeling rise in his chest and he vowed to never take it off. He has not taken it off until now. Not by choice. 

He’s pretty sure Tommy doesn’t even remember giving it to him, but his heart clenches at the thought of Hiraeth throwing his crown out. He hopes it is safe. He hopes for that more than anything.) 

The library is his safe haven. The books are too new to be truly interesting, and as Technoblade suspected many are romance or adventure novels that depict the hero always getting the person in distress, always ending up with who they choose. He focuses more on the history side of things, slowly consuming the dwindling supply of readable books. He reads more about the neighboring kingdoms and gods - they really are struggling. They’re getting aid from a nation across the sea at the moment but it’d be so much easier if Hesthers just aided them. The leadership in this server is just plain shoddy, Technoblade realizes. 

He _really_ hopes someone stages a coup, gets some unions going. Tear down a monarchy or two.

The food is delicious and the tea even more so and yet late at night Technoblade counts out the different constellations in his head as the odd pit of grief in his chest grows and grows. He does not know what he is mourning. He does not know why. 

(Except that is a lie, isn’t it? He knows but he cannot look it in the eye.) 

February slowly comes to an end and Hiraeth pulls him away into a drawing room for a routine cup of tea and snacks. It is blueberry tea with scones and small cakes, and Techno hides a scowl as Hiraeth sits next to him. 

“I have another gift for you,” Hiraeth says and hands him a box and Technoblade cannot hide how his shoulders slouch. There have been too many gifts and too many meetings. Hiraeth does not see his expression, or chooses not to, and Technoblade decides that that is a good thing. It has to be. It has to. 

The gift this time is a pair of white leather gloves. The material is solid and the dye job spotless, and Techno cannot think of how much this had to cost. He cannot think of the thrown aside packages of jewelry and clothing that may have been more. If he does he will crumble and he can’t. 

“Thanks.” 

“Now there is another matter I’d like to discuss today,” and Technoblade nearly drops the gift because that is not how the script is supposed to go. There are rules they play by and set times for things to occur and Technoblade prepared himself for awkward small talk, not whatever this is going to be. 

“You know how Febuary is nearly over?” 

“Uh-huh?” 

“I was thinking for our wedding date that it can be March twentieth, on the spring solstice,” and Hiraeth moves closer, placing a hand gently on his cheek, “I know that is soon but I thought it’d be.. romantic” Hiraeth _blushes_ , Technoblade notes, as though he were a schoolboy talking to his crush and not someone he stole against their will, “and you have had a month to adjust so far. Do you find this agreeable?” 

_No_. No he does not. He does not find any of this situation agreeable. It was almost easy to forget that this was not just a simple attempted dating thing but that Hiraeth made himself his fiancee and subconsciously Technoblade touches the choker wrapped around his throat. He knows it has not tightened but it feels like it has. It feels like a collar. 

He nods because he cannot speak and curses himself internally for nodding because he did not mean to. He didn’t plan on nodding but he did and Technoblade is so fucking tired of his actions going against his wishes. He’s so fucking tired of going in and out of control and his emotions dancing away from him only to come back with a vengence. 

He’s so tired of all of this. 

“That’s - that’s excellent!” Hiraeth exclaims and gently grabs the sides of Techno’s head, placing a tender kiss on his lips. “I cannot wait. This is just the beginning, I assure you. You will be so happy with me.” 

The Blood God is not a god you go to when you need aid. It is the god of the slaughtered and slaughters, of quick deaths from clean cuts and promising meat from livestock but Technoblade takes a moment and hopes all the goodwill he’s built up with the man can finally pay off. 

Techno closes his eyes and _pleas._

\--- 

  
  
  
  


_DADZA_

_DADZAAAAAAAAA_

_PHIL PHIL PHIL PHIL_

_PHILZA THE MINECRAFT GUY_

_BRO GO RESCUE UR SON LMAO_

_E_

_Dad I failed my chemistry exam can you tell me ur proud of me? :(_

_GO GET TECHNO DUDE_

_Love how philza is here just chilling while technos like, dying lmao_

_Damn bro i love this walmart version of killing stalking_

_Bro remember number 3 no weeb shit_

_WRONG RULE DUMBASS_

_LMAO SAYS YOU I’M RIGHT IT’S RULE 3_

_Anyone here like eating ass_

  
  


Phil wakes up with a start, slamming his head against the hardwood floor as he falls out of bed. Squinting, he can vaguely see a flickering three-thirty am on his alarm clock next to his bedside and lets out a muffled groan. 

“What the _fuckkk_ ” 

_SMH DON’T SWEAR_

_Dadza said a bad word i’m gonna call the cops_

_YOUR SON IS IN DANGER SIR_

_YEAH GO GET TECHNO_

_BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD_

_KILLZA! KILLZA! KILLZA!_

_“_ Wh?” 

It was too early for this shit. It was wayyy too early to deal with this shit. 

"Look," Philza began, stumbling to his feet and glaring at the open air, "what the hell are you on about?"

He knew the Blood God. He knew it in the way people knew the moon existed, through evidence and statements but never firsthand. He's never really talked to the man until now, he realizes, but Techno has heard the gods voice since he was a child. He knows its annoying and loud and a trickster but this is new. 

_DID YOU LITERALLY NOT HEAR US_

_bro be nice he's old_

_your son is in danger lmao_

_GO HELP HIM_

**_KILLZA KILLZA KILLZ_ **

"I-" a cold feeling began to settle in Phil's body, "which son?" Phil asked. Tommy and Wilbur were here. He could hear Tommy moving around two doors over and Wilbur was a deep sleeper. They're fine. They had to be fine. Please Gods let them be fine.

_BRO,,,_

_no no give him a moment he'll figure it out_

_awe hes worried about Wilbur n Tommy 😢_

_WHO DO YOU THINK SIR_

_yeah ur right we came here for the two kids who aren't our champions this makes perfect sense._

"Technoblade?" Phil asks and his body just stops for a moment. "He's at hypixel right now, he's fine right?" And the words taste like ash in his mouth because Techno hasn't called him in weeks. Philza knew something was wrong but didn't press because his sons are growing and its not his place to push but now he wished he pushed. 

_NAH SO LIKE_

_Alright this is gonna be embarrassing for us but_

_E_

_E_

_E_

_Your son got kidnapped and is gonna get married soon_

_Yeah techno rlly is just here getting abducted SMH_

_Technowife_

_If I see Technowife one more time I will kill some orphans js_

_E_

_E_

_EEEEE_

Philza let the rest of the voices pass over him. He could feel his lungs restrict and his muscles clench as he just - stopped. 

There will be a moment in your life when the world comes to a standstill. Time will slow and the only thing keeping you from crashing to the ground is the understanding that if you do you will never get up. There will be a moment when you are forced to confront things with no way out, no corner to safely duck behind and let it pass by you. 

This, Philza realizes, is that moment.

  
 _"_ **_Where the fuck is my son?_ ** _"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be honest with you j imagine Technos room to look like princess Annalise's from barbie princess and the pauper but just blue 
> 
> ALSO if there's any formatting issues please let me know as I am updating this on my phone


	4. gonna be real with you here i have no idea what to name this

In another story a mother collapses in anguish in the wake of her daughter's disappearance. In another story she cries and cries, and searches. In another story she lets crops wither and humanity die despite the fact her daughters choice to leave was her own. It takes intervention and settlements and still she is never quite happy. Still she lets humanity suffer.

This is not that story.

Phil learns from the voices about the man who took his son and lets rage boil through his veins. He backs a bag and wakes up Tommy and Wilbur because he cannot let them out of his sight, not now. Not when the last time he did ended up with this happening. 

Phil does not cry or collapse but instead forges on through Hypixel and yells at whoever he can to get information to track down the man. He does not cry because he knows the moment he does it will flood the sea and Phil will drown in its currents. He will pull everyone down with him and together they’ll drown while Techno’s spirit dies and that is not something he can afford. 

“What do you _mean_ the server is whitelisted?” Phil growls out to some bureaucrat and he knows it is not their fault. They were not the ones who caused this mess and it should not surprise him in the slightest. Servers set up with monarchies and complicated politics always are whitelisted. Always love to keep the complications _going and going and going-_. 

“I really am sorry sir,” they say and the hint of regret in their voice may be caused by the legacy Technoblade has left on this server or excellent acting skills but either way it does not him and he wants them to do something that will, “we could set up a meeting between you two though, if that’d be of interest?” 

Fuck, Philza could kiss them. “Yes, Yes that’d be absolutely _wonderful_.” 

-

\--

Across the distant distance Techno accepts another gift (this time a silk shirt of mauve) and pricks his finger on a silver needle. He watches small droplets of red roll down his finger and repeats the same manta in his head that Helen once did: _survive. Do nothing else but survive and that will be enough. That will be enough._

\--

-

“You wished to meet with me?” A man asks three days later and Phil figures it must be Hiraeth. He is around twenty-six, Phil figures. Nicely dressed, prim and proper but Phil can hear Wilbur hold back a scoff behind him and Phil does not blame him. His outfit is the epitome of trying too hard. 

“Yes, I did.” Philza says and does not shake the man's offered hand but glares him down instead, “I did in fact wish to meet with you.” 

“Well, I’m here!” Hiraeth smiles, sitting down across from Phil and giving a nod of acknowledgement towards Wilbur, “What business would you like to discuss?” 

“I would like to discuss my son who you’re keeping captive, if you don’t mind, of course. If it’s not too much of a _hassle_ for you then please let me know. I heard how you nearly had to cancel and far be it for me to be rude to a guest with a, what was it again? - ailing cat?” 

Tense silence fills the room for a moment and Philza knows that the guards stationed outside the room must be getting antsy. Quiet rooms meant for conversation are never a good sign and Philza hopes Hiraeth is sweating. 

“I take it you have heard of the bet, then?” 

“Yes, I have.” Oh Phil’s heard of that gods damned bet alright. Not one of substance or understanding but of such a small thing that it does not deserve this. It does not deserve his sons unwilling hand, “funny how your Lord took an understanding prize for the win of - what was it again, do forgive me i am an old man, - the most fish collected? That was the bet after all, who could collect the most fish?” 

It was the bet and it was idiotic. The Blood God said that with fish farms on the rise and starting to become common food fish now became livestock, one of his main domains and thus could catch the most. The Lord of the Seals, who was not a sea god but a god of some aquatic animals, differed. The Lord of the Seals won when Hiraeth got the animals to work for their Lord. It was stupid and childish and reminiscince of something Tommy and Tubbo would do in their spare time. 

“Yes, it was,” Hiraeth says without shame, “that was the bet. You are then aware that by winning the bet My Lord and I were granted anything from the Blood God’s hoard?” 

“I am aware, yes.” 

“Then I do not see the issue here.” 

“The issue,” Philza hisses, “is that your god took a prime cut of meat whereas you _took my son_. Your god took his proper dues worth a bet of such stakes and you overreached. You overreached and now I am asking you politely to extract your hand and give back what is rightfully not yours.” 

“Nothing foul of play occurred!” Hiraeth defends, raising his hands in mock surrender, “I took what was offered. I did not steal him out of his home at the dead of night like some thief. He was a reward offered.” 

“Then take a different reward.” 

“I couldn’t possibly-” 

“The Blood God is more than happy to trade with you once again,” Philza interrupted, slowly getting to his feet, “I spoke with him. He has some other items he thinks may interest you more. You won’t be intruding on anything.” 

“But the gods-”

“ _I don’t fucking care about the gods!”_ Phil yells, swinging his sword from his inventory to point at Hiraeth’s neck, “that is my fucking son. That is my fucking son and I am his father and I will be burnt alive before I leave him there no matter what the gods say. Let him go or else you will not like where this goes.”

“You are an understandable man,” Hiraeth says, voice soft, “so I beg you to understand where I am coming from. I have loved your son since he was fifteen-”

“What?” Phil interrupts, glare continuing as he leans his sword in just the slightest bit more. “You didn’t even know my son when he was fifteen.” 

“.. that is an explanation for another time _but_ i must implore you to understand. I love him. No ill will will come to him under my care. He will be well taken care of. You do not need to fret, i assure you.”

“I do not need to fret? I do not need to _fret_? Do you hear yourself? Are you this much of an arse everyday of your life? I’m not asking you to build a fucking rocket, just be a decent fucking person!” 

Hiraeth met Phil’s eyes with a silent determination and Hiraeth leaned into Phil’s sword, letting a thin line of red start to run down, “I love your son. I am not ashamed of that and I will not give him up. I love him more than you could ever understand and I will not let him leave my side without a fight. He is mine and I am his.” 

“Funny you say that,” Phil says, “because a fight is exactly what you’re going to get.”

Phil slides the sword into Hiraeth’s neck and bitterly smiles as hot blood hits his face when he yanks the weapon out, guards swarming the room as his communicator pings. 

_Hiraeth was killed by Ph1lza_.

\--

The door to his room is slammed open and Technoblade nearly falls off his bed. 

His blood pressure lowers when he sees it is just Hiraeth who winces at the door, apologetically shrugging as he attempts to turn his hurried steps into steady, cool ones but Techno knows something's up. 

Hiraeth sits next to him on the bed, lightly knocking their shoulders together in a show of companionship. “You do love me, don’t you?” he asks and Techno takes a moment before slowly shaking his head no. He does not love the man but he no longer hates him as he used to. There are worse people in the world, after all. 

“Why?” Hiraeth asks, a note of desperation in his voice “why do you not love me?” 

“I just don’t.” Technoblade responds because he does not know how to answer that question. How does the moon know how to guide the tides? How does the sun gently kiss the earth without razing it to the ground? It is not something he can say other than he knows it is true and will not change. 

“How can I change that? How can I get you to love me?” 

“In all honesty, I don’t think you can.” 

He did not mean to state it as a challenge but simply a fact. There are only three people Technoblade truly loves and they were forged through pain and suffering and bonding. They were forged through a man taking a chance on a hybrid and loving him like a son and two annoying brothers who take his things with glee. They were forged through time and trust and effort. 

Hiraeth will never be one of those people and it is another thing Technoblade simply knows. 

“There must be a way, even the ice queen managed to thaw her heart!” 

“Well she’s, y’know, fake ‘n stuff. If the author didn’t have her go through a change then she’d be a static character and while static characters aren’t always bad, dynamic characters are more interesting. Also, it’s a children's book.” 

Hiraeth huffs out a laugh and drapes an arm around Techno’s shoulders, pulling him closer and resting his head on the top of Technoblade’s, “This is why I love you, you know?” Hiraeth says, closing his eyes, “everything about you is amazing. I don’t care what your father says, I don’t want you to ever leave my side.” 

Hiraeth says those words and Technoblade freezes. 

“You talked to my dad?” Technoblade says and the words feel rough coming from his throat, scratchy and wrong despite no injury. Phil is supposed to be safe and sound and not getting caught up in Techno’s personal bullshit. 

( _T_ _here is a man with golden hair and shiny clothing that flickers in the light trading with some of the elders. Technoblade does not care much for him but the odd limbs attached to his back pull him in and he ends up following the man home. The man's name is Phil and the limbs were things called wings and Technoblade thinks Phil is the most interesting thing he’s ever seen in his entire life_.) 

“Yes, I did. We had a talk about the bet. He wishes for you to come home but I….. forgive me for being selfish but I cannot allow that to happen. I will die a thousand deaths for you and kill him a million if it is what’s required.” 

( _Phil has a son three years older then Techno named Wilbur. When they meet Wilbur declares them twins and Technoblade nods along because he is not sure what is getting said but Wilbur looks happy and Phil’s face is doing a happy-weird thing and if it makes them happy it cannot be bad. Technoblade does not know that as the years pass by Wilbur will keep that insistence despite knowing better and Techno will just nod along with rolled eyes and an utterance of ‘oh yeah? Well I'm two minutes older than you.’)_

“Did you uh, see anyone else there? At your meeting?” 

“I did actually, a man wearing a beanie with curly dark hair. Do you know him?” 

“That’s my brother.” 

  
“Huh, guess good genes run in the family then.” 

( _Wilbur yelled at him all night before his first tournament and Phil just looked at him with those disappointed eyes. Techno remembers being happy Tommy was having a sleepover at Tubbo’s house that night. When he came out of the tournament in third place Wilbur hugged him tight and Phil bought him a heated pretzel and they had dinner that night like a normal family, with Tommy raving about how cool Tubbo’s father ‘The Captain’ was but that Phil was much, much cooler of course.)_

“Yeah, I guess so.” Technoblade says and his eyes focus on the window overlooking the gardens. He looks at the purple and blue flowers and remembers Elaina offhandedly mentioning that they were poisonous and a pain to deal with. He thinks of routine tea times and Phil’s interference and cuddles into Hiraeth, gently kissing the side of his neck before backing off. 

“How about I prepare the tea next time?” Technoblade says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not SUPER into this chapter but I started this fic as a way to get into writing again (this is why it's anonymous) so That's What Matters. Again, don't worry nothing non-con will occur. The story should start to pick up next chapter though!!


	5. broo i am BACKKK

There was more than just Helen in the trojan war. 

Choices do not exist in a vacuum. Actions always have consequences and through yellowed pages and faded ink history has often blamed these results on Helen. They blamed it on Helen and Paris and many mortal men without looking at the divine. They have not raised their voices and pointed fingers at the Gods. They have not yet blamed Eris.

(She could not help herself, some scholars say. It was in her nature and to blame her would be akin to blaming a human for breathing. What makes nature? At what point do we allow actions to be explained away because it was out of their control? Eris threw the apple and enjoyed the display. Is this nature? Aphrodite offered up Helen and Zeus pushed the decision off to Paris. Is that nature? 

Is any of this truly nature or do we just not like to think about what it says?) 

The Lord of the Seals was a deity taught about in the common education system throughout the realms. Part of the pantheon making up this world, he simply could  _ not _ be talked about. Large servers would have children sent off to school and in the quiet worlds adults would sit their children down and tell His story. 

He was not kind. 

Despite his name the Lord of the Seals was not a sea deity but a chaos one. He was the god of cruel creativity, obsessive love and cracked bones. He is the god of the quiet human desires that can not be said, the ones that get pushed away to the corner of our minds because we understand them to be fundamentally wrong no matter how enticing they seem.

He is a man beautiful but disgusting, wanted and hated at the same time. The followers of his either did so in the quiet of night away from public eyes or proudly for all to see. There was no middle ground. Not with him. Never with him. 

Technoblade was five years old when he first learned about him. Old enough to understand that he was not right but not sure as to why. Ten years old and all other gods faded into the background as he realized he was the Blood Gods chosen, something Technoblade realized a few years later was just a fancy title that meant he was the poor fool who got the short end of the stick, stuck with a god that would never shut up. 

At twenty-one Technoblade recognizes the need for The Lord of the Seals but honestly? Fuck his followers. Hiraeth had a statue of his god, carved in cold marble with gentle detailing. It was beautiful and Techno wanted to destroy it. He wanted to burn the oil paintings Hiraeth hung up of the gods stories and tales and smash the amulets that have begun to make a collection in his room. 

He held onto that spark of rage for dear life because if he didn’t it would leave him and he would be tired and empty and listless. He would nod along and space out or go into that shitty headspace where everything else was working fine except for everything that let him leave. It was worse to find Hiraeth’s jokes funny or his company pleasant when he knew that it was artificial, that if he were in his right mind the man would just be a blood pool on the floor. It was hard to be aware and care. 

He took that spark of rage and kindled it in his chest, fueling the fire however he could. Technoblade marched down to the kitchens and forced Elaina to accompany him, because no one else would want to. No one else in this estate cared about him, if they did then they would be forced to see the situation for what it was and they had families to feed. They had children at home or parents in need and they could not work with the guilt on their shoulders, not enough for them. They turn their heads away and clog their ears and keep on going as though there is nothing to see. 

“I want to be the one to prepare the tea for this afternoon,” Technoblade says as he tightly grips the hydrangeas he picked this morning from the garden, “I thought it would be uh, sweet. Nice little gesture or something.” 

“Oh! Oh that is so sweet!” Elaina says delightedly, clapping her hands together, “do you want me to help you - oh what am i saying of course you do that’s why you invited me here and - oh wait no, am I being presumptuous? Do you not want my help?” 

“Yeah, I, uh, want your help.” 

“Oh! That’s what I thought, but I didn’t want to presume.”

Elaina, Technoblade realized, doesn’t turn her head away. She didn’t look him in the eyes for the first week not out of guilt but out of nerves. He doesn’t think she realizes the situation he’s in, or at least not the full version of it. She talks about her life without any worries that he’d use it to guilt trip her into helping him out. 

(She’s an only child whose family lives far east in a small town. She came here to make enough money to be able to retire comfortably when she’s ready to have kids, to be able to focus on doing what she likes. Her mother adores sunflowers and her father loves her more than life itself and doesn’t push Technoblade for details about his life but he ends up offering them anyway. He tells her about the time Philza walked into the kitchen at three am to find Technoblade and Wilbur covered in flour with Tommy passed holding a jar of peanut butter. She laughs and warmth shoots straight to his heart and Technoblade wonders when he’s gotten lonely enough that something as simple as a laugh has such an impact on him. When has he reached a point that such a short amount of time made him actually care about her.

Technoblade is pretty sure that if he asked her she would help him escape. She is too kind not to do so and the option of it being right there makes his heart ache. He can’t ask that of her but he wants to so badly that for the moment he tucks the option away to the back of his mind for now. He won’t let himself forget this option even if it might ruin her life.) 

“I’m good on the tea. Phil taught me how to do that at least but uh, I was wondering if you could make the scones and other things?” Technoblade asks as he gently places the flower down on the counter, grabbing a metal pot to put onto the stove, “according to him i’m useless in the kitchen.” 

“I’d say he’s being mean but from what you’ve told me about your father I’d say he’s a pretty good judge of character!” Elaina teases and immediately goes to get the flour out of the cabinet, “any particular flavour of scone you’d prefer?” 

“I literally do not care other than you making them edible. That’s it. That’s the goal you have to hit.” 

“Funny, I think I can do that.” 

They exchange small talk as they do their respective tasks, skirting around the other in the kitchen. Technoblade steeps the petals into the boiled water and adds a dash of vanilla into the pot just to make sure there  _ is _ a taste. Technoblade hands her sugar and cream and the sense of purpose, of finally doing something important, loosens invisible knots in his chest. He is incredibly grateful that Elaina does not notice what type of petals they are, that she does not connect the dots on anything put in front of her. 

She makes blueberry scones and coffee macarons and they settle the snacks and tea down in the drawing room. When Hiraeth enters Technoblade smiles and nods and presses a cup of tea into his hands, lets him know that he himself made it so the man should not expect anything special. He grins when Hiraeth takes a sip and the smile does not slip from his face. 

(Hiraeth praises the tea and said it was delicious. Hiraeth drinks three cups and eats a single scone and his eyes do not stray away from Technoblade once. 

Technoblade does not drink a single drop.) 

(Technoblade thinks of Helen and how she was of Sparta first and not troy. He thinks of how she fought back in those ten years and lets the spark of satisfaction curl in his chest. She survived for ten years and came out of it alive. She survived the siege of Troy and Technoblade will too. He will survive and see the day just like Helen. He will see his Menelaus again.) 

  
  


Technoblade hands grip the choker on his neck and watches as things slowly fall apart in front of him. The spark of satisfaction that burned bright fades the moment they depart the room and the only thing that remains is a sense of guilt. Did Hiraeth deserve that? Truly? Hiraeth has been kind and gentle and a dick, sure, but did he do enough to warrant getting poisoned through goddamn tea?

The logical part of Technoblade reminds him that  _ yes _ ,  _ he does deserve it. He took you and locked you up here and you are entirely within your right. This is more than fair, it is just. Anyone else in your position would do so. You are no more at fault then a bear biting a hunters hand and If you think otherwise you are a fool losing your grip.  _

It is right. It is fully correct and Technoblade knows this but the emotions do not stop. Technoblade knows that if anyone else were in this situation he would give them a nod of approval and it is infuriating that for some reason he is feeling this way. He goes to the library and reads while phantom oil slides down his throat and sorrow tears at his chest. He will not tell Hiraeth what he has done not matter how much his inner thoughts scream at him to do so. 

Except, Technoblade goes to his room to prepare for dinner and he wears the blue corset vest given to him on his first day here to dinner as a silent apology. He laughs at Hiraeth’s jokes and incites more conversation with him while shame threatens to tear at his chest because the knowledge of his own actions  _ burns _ . Technoblade asks about Hiraeth and learns facts he didn’t care about because the guilt is starting to crawl up from his chest and choke him from the inside out. Technoblade lets Hiraeth give his hand a kiss goodnight as the man departs from dinner early and when he hears Hiraeth puking later that night he curls deeper into the silk blankets on his bed. 

_ I’m sorry _ , Technoblade thinks when the retching pauses for only the briefest moment after an hour,  _ I shouldn’t be sorry but I am sorry. I’m sorry. I wish I didn’t do that. I’m so, so sorry. I hope you’re alright. I hope you die. I don’t know what I hope anymore.  _

_ I don’t know what to hope anymore.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update!! Christmas time took me away from writing for a bit but here i am!! Unfortunately for me I have come up with a new fic idea but fortunately for y’all i have decided i will not work on it until i am finished this fic so more updates should occur!! I hope everyone has had some happy holidays!! Oh!! Also thought i should mention just in case there will be no oc x character relationships outside of Hiraeth, obviously. Elaina is just a friend here!!
> 
> Next chapter should hopefully be around 4k words but i will not make any promises! Love the comments though those keep me FED so ty for everyone who comments!!


	6. Chapter 6

The sun casts its glow down upon the teenagers sat in the meadow, a light breeze running through their hair. There is a bliss in ignorance, a quiet monument of untapped divinity laying in wait. Knowledge is both power and destruction and it is a lesson that you do not learn until you are too old and weary for it to mean anything. It is a lesson you do not learn until you wish you could have it back.

“I think they’re hiding something from me.” 

“Oh?” Tubbo says beside him, cross-legged as he sat on the picnic blanket, idly picking at the grass in the field. “Why do you think that?” 

“Because they’re being fucking stupid and annoying and Phil is being clingy n’ shit.” 

“I mean, he’s your dad isn’t he? That’s kinda their job.” 

“Well yeah, but I mean more than usual! It’s getting annoying. He’ll come by like five times in half an hour to make sure i’m still in my room or something and if i’m not he’ll freak out but then won’t tell me  _ why _ . Wilbur’s acting like this too.” 

“Is there something big coming up? Like a birthday or anniversary or anything like that?” 

Tommy pauses for a moment and thinks back on the past few weeks, chewing his lip. “I mean.. Techno hasn’t really been around? Which isn’t that surprising seeing as he’s a freak and farms potatoes and shit. He’s probably making sure some kid doesn’t become like, number one with watermelon. It’s a bit odd he hasn’t called, though.” 

“Is it Techno’s birthday then?”

“Nah, his is June first.” 

“Oh.” 

“Tubbo, I need you to be more helpful than just going  _ ‘oh _ ’! Like c’mon man, why do you think they’re being so fucking weird?” 

“I…” Tubbo pauses, frowning and curling his hands in his lap, “do you think it’s something serious?” 

“What? No! Or well, maybe? Shit, could it be you think?” 

“Why not just ask Phil then? He would probably tell you if it was.” 

Tommy sprang to his feet, gesturing with his hands, “no no no no you see - if it IS serious he won’t tell me a thing because he’s a bitch. He’ll go ‘oh no Tommy you do not have to know despite how much of a big man you are with so many girlfriends’ and send me to like, your house  _ again  _ just so i won’t ask more questions.”

“Why not ask Wilbur then?” 

“I…. hm. I could! I could ask him! That’s smart Tubbo, you’re really smart you know that? Wilbur will tell me - probably tell me. If he doesn’t I'll just guilt trip him until he does. I’ll remind him how he broke my heart when he ruined mr. snuffles when i was six.” 

“Weren’t you the one who did that?” 

Tommy shrugged, plopping back down on the blanket and pulling a ham sandwich out of the basket, “yeah but it’s not like he remembers that. I’ve told him he did so much shit and he only calls me out on it like, half the time.” 

“Isn’t that gaslighting?” 

“What the fuck is gaslighting? Stop using big words, Tubbo.” 

\--

Philza didn’t get in trouble for the stunt he pulled for two main reasons.

  1. Technoblade was not just a player on Hypixel. He was not just a part of the masses, he was who the masses flocked to. He was a friend and a brother in arms. He was close with the owners and the admins and when they knew the situation they too did not blame him, instead they gave him private pats on the back when eyes were not prying and told him to get his boy. 



And

2\. He’s Philza fucking Minecraft. 

_ Honestly, _ Wilbur thought,  _ who the hell is gonna charge Philza Minecraft with a fine?  _

They were closer, Wilbur knows. They know the server Technoblade is in and they know that all they have to do is get past the whitelist but that brings it’s own complications into the mix. Wilbur doesn’t know what state his brother is in and that brings a cruel cloud of anxiety to his chest because he should have been there. He should of known or been aware or fucking  _ something _ . 

Techno would fight the world for him and Wilbur didn’t even stop one man with wandering eyes and overzealous audacity. It should be a joke, Wilbur thinks. A joke with a horrible punchline that ends with ‘ha you thought! Techno killed them all.’ that would get rated an absolute zero at a comedy club. 

It should be a joke but it’s not. 

(Wilbur thinks that night about childhood dreams and teenage adventures. He remembers his first paid show with his guitar and how Techno came along so Tommy could have alone time with Phil. Wilbur remembers the nervous excitement and twitching nerves and just how fucking proud Techno looked at him when it was all over. How Technoblade clapped him on his back and told him he’ll be going far and there is a sinking realization he has never once watched his brothers tournaments because Wilbur cannot stomach blood. Does Technoblade know Wilbur is proud of him? Does he know that Wilbur would die for him if it meant Techno would be alright? 

Late that night Wilbur grips his arms and quietly hopes he does. Wilbur does not know what he would do if Techno does not.) 

It takes little time for Wilbur and Phil to start contacting people. Wilbur isn’t afraid to admit that he is no good at server hacking and all that shit that goes down. Phil is a man of numerous talents but that is not one of them. They didn’t need to say outloud the longer the two can keep Tubbo and Tommy out of the loop the better. Some things do not need to be communicated. 

Wilbur hovers over Fundy’s contact information and frowns at the reply. Fundy was at the top of the list and the first to get back at him, and the message he reads stings.

**_Furrysonboyman_ ** _ : sorry i can’t. friend of mine went missing so we're looking for him _

**_WilburSoot_ ** _ : oh that sucks!! Are you sure though? We’ll pay you whatever you want if that’s the issue.  _

**_Furrysonboyman_ ** _ : dunno how long this’ll take and i’m at hypixel rn so i can’t. Sorry Wil  _

**_WilburSoot_ ** _ : wait hold up you’re at Hypixel?? _

**_Furrysonboyman_ ** _ : yeah??  _

**_WilburSoot_ ** _ : So am I, actually. Wanna go get lunch or smth real quick and maybe talk about this more??  _

**_Furrysonboyman_ ** _ : give me an hour.  _

This is….. possibly good news. Fundy is not his child, Wilbur knows. They only have a three year age difference and there is no way biologically or adoptionally that Fundy could be his kid. Except there is a running joke between the two and when Wilbur looks at Fundy he cannot help but think how young he looks. Wilbur jokes about being his father but there is a calm reality in Wilburs heart that if it were another reality he would be and he is not ashamed to think that. 

Fundy is the best around and if anyone could do it Wilbur knows he could. If not for money then at least for the relationship the two share. He arrives at the restaurant ten minutes early and orders drinks for the two while silently praying that this works. Wilbur needs this to work.

Fundy shows up five minutes late with a trio trailing behind him and an apologetic smile on his lips. Niki waves at him while Eret and Hbomb stand looking vaguely uncomfortable and Wilbur is hit with buzzing confusion at the scene in front of him. He wasn’t aware they hung out. 

“Sorry,” Fundy says as he takes a seat, Niki pulling a chair out from another table and adding it to their tables as Eret and Hbomb take the remaining seats, “I would’ve messaged you they’re coming but I didn’t really have time.” 

“It’s fine?” Wilbur says, taking a sip of his drink “how's your friend?” 

“No one has seen him in two days,” Niki says and Wilbur wants to hug her because there is a soft tone of distress in her throat, “we were gonna go to the end together today but he didn’t turn up and none of the tournament officials have seen him and just… we’re worried.” 

“Yeah no, that’s totally understandable,” Wilbur says and he squeezes Niki’s hand softly, glancing over at Eret and Hbomb for a split second before internally shrugging, “my brother is missing too which is why i contacted Fundy. What is your friend's name?”

“Ranboo,” Eret answers and there is a sense of stone in his voice, “he’s sixteen. Usually plays bedwars here. He’s an enderman hybrid, has bad memory issues. We’re kinda worried he might’ve gotten lost or trapped somewhere.” 

“Ranboo? I... think i’ve heard that name somewhere, actually.” 

“Yeah, he’s earning a reputation and getting called the Walmart Technoblade because of his voice and playing style. It’s uh, kinda funny I guess.” 

“Is Tommy alright?” Hbomb cuts in, frowning 

“Why wouldn’t Tommy be alright?” 

“..because you just said he went missing?”

“What?” Wilbur asks, frowning at the man before his words from before click into place, “oh! No it’s Technoblade that went missing, Tommy’s fine. We actually found Technoblade stuck in a server with a whitelist that we kinda need to break into so now it’s just a waiting game. I’m sure he’ll be fine though, i mean he’s the blade after all y'know?” 

“Ah, sorry.”

“That’s uh, a funny coincidence that Technoblade went missing and then Ranboo who got the nickname Walmart Technoblade went missing, huh?”

There was an awkward pause as the four looked at eachother, logic yelling at them that it was a coincidence. There are infinite chances and infinite possibilities in the world. A crying child is not crying because of a murder that was comitted a second ago in another state. Correlation does not equal the same event and they knew this. All of them knew this. 

Occam's razor however, looked them each in the face and spat on what they thought. The simplest answers is most often the correct ones and that hung heavy in the air. What do you say to this? How do you combat logic and emotion? 

“Would you guys like to come have a look over what me and Phil found so far by any chance?”

\--

Hiraeth beckons Technoblade to the foyer with a nervous gait and excited steps. It is mid-morning and Technoblade wishes nothing more than for Hiraeth to have politely fucked off. This is disturbing the set routine the two have worked out and it feels rude, it feels distasteful and makes Technoblade frown. 

_ A man who does not see the issue with kidnapping you probably doesn’t care about politeness concerning routines, _ a voice in his head reminds him,  _ and if he does then he’s a grade-A simp, sorry.  _

(Technoblade does not say it aloud but he missed the voices. They have come back slowly, they are few and quiet but it fills an ache he did not know he had. There is something comforting about them shouting the letter E. It reminds him of home, he thinks. It reminds him of love.) 

“I am going out for a bit as you know,” Hiraeth says and Technoblade internally rolls his eyes because he is in fact aware, Hiraeth talked about his visit to the capital and how soon he’d be back last night. Technoblade is not a forgetful dog who cannot retain information, “and I thought as a treat you might enjoy some company. Also since we cannot ah, you know, this may be the answer we need.” 

Hiraeth opens the door to the foyer and there stands a shaking teenager with black and white skin clutching a book tightly to his chest. He is clearly scared and reminds Technoblade so much of Tommy it has him seeing red for a moment. 

“This is Ranboo and he’ll be our new guest.” 

(People know the tale of Cassandra but often did they forget that she was Paris’ sister. She walked the halls with Helen, ate meals and shared solemn moments. Overtime Helen may have even considered Cassandra a friend. Cassandra was ignored as Helen was shushed and there is a bonding that comes from your very existence serving for only one purpose. They were two women locked away . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH!!!! AHHHHH!!! There was some absolutely INCREDIBLE fanart done for this fic by Spades and I ask you to come check it out here: https://twitter.com/spadeskio/status/1343347322474926082 like!!! Holy shit!!! Look at it!!! LOOK AT IT!!!! Dude, I am so fucking pumped about this artwork you have No Idea. Also!! Everyone out here calling Ranboo Cassandra and my dumb brain is just like “haha that’s Paris’ sister” and it’s like hm….. Cassandra also lived with them……. Fascinating……. Anyways look at this incredible fanart and cheer over it w/ me


	7. oopsies i forgot to name the last chapter title something funny my bad

“You kidnapped a child,” Technoblade says plainly, looking at Ranboo in surprise. He’s noticing more things the longer he looks. The crumpled suit the teen wore looked like it was put on a few days ago. How long ago did he yoink the kid? Or did he just like wearing bad suits? Purple particles swirled around him and Technoblade pauses because he is pretty sure ender hybrids don’t make those normally. “you just straight up nabbed a kid. What the fuck.” 

Hiraeth at least has the decency to wince at that, Technoblade notices. Which is nice and all but Technoblades expectations of the man are literally on the ground and he still manages to fail them. He did not have child-nabbing to be on his bingo list here, that’s for sure. 

“It’s… unexpected I know, and a bit unsavoury, but I did it for you.” 

“Dude, I straight up did not ask you to steal a kid.” 

The kid -  _ Ranboo _ , his mind reminds him - is looking at him with something akin to awe, horror and confusion and Technoblade realizes that ah shit, Ranboo probably knows who he is. This is awkward. 

“I know that but I figured he’ll make good company while i’m away,” Hiraeth pats Ranboo on the shoulder, startling the kid out of whatever trance he was in and causing startled noises to escape from Ranboo’s lips, “did you know he’s earned the nickname ‘Walmart Technoblade’ in Hypixel? I was already looking for someone for you, but after I heard that I felt like you two would be most compatible.” 

_ You literally have the worst luck _ , Technoblade thinks, a snort of laughter threatening to leave his lips,  _ genuinely i cannot believe how bad your fortune is. This is just sad. Kidnapped because you were profiting off my clout. Wow. Wild.  _

“So like, instead of getting me a dog or something you just took an infant.”

“I do not appreciate what you’re suggesting about my character, love. I did not steal him like a common thief or horrid trafficker in the midst of night, I brought him here for  _ you _ .” 

“I literally did not ask you to but this conversation seems to be going in circles so like, okay. Cool. You kidnapped - sorry ‘brought’ - a kid here to keep me company while you’re gone? That’s it?” 

“Yes.” 

“....and you didn’t get me a dog because… _?”  _

“I uh, know an animal shelter that has some nice dogs,” Ranboo pipes up and Techno notices the kid is still shaking and seemingly half out of it but it’s nice to know he has a voice, “there’s one called Floof, he’s uh, a real sweetheart. If you take me back I could….show you?” 

“Gonna be honest here I would totally prefer a dog over a teenager, no offense kid.” 

“None taken actually, I don’t really want to be here either?” 

“ **Enough** .” Hiraeth says, fixing Technoblade with an unimpressed look and tightening his hold on Ranboo’s shoulder, making the kid squeak more in surprise than any actual pain, “my dearest if you desire a dog then you will get one. Ranboo however isn’t going to be leaving us,” his tone softened as Hiraeth looked up Ranboo, hesitant smile overtaking his face, “I know this is sudden and you will need time to settle in, I understand that. I know this must be rough for you but please, think of us as your new family. In time I hope that you might even call me father or papa, although I will not force you to.” 

“I already have a family though so this isn’t really needed? So you can just let me go.” and Technoblade had to give it to Ranboo for not immediately backing down but then again, Hypixel competitors usually aren’t as timid as average people. Likely something to do with the constant deaths and murder but correlation doesn’t equal causation and all that, so what does Technoblade know? 

“You’ll forget about them in no time.” Hiraeth sneers and  _ ouch _ , based on the way the kids face crumpled in despair that was probably a low blow. Ranboo clings a little tighter to the book in his hands like it might provide comfort or an answer - a way out of this situation. 

There will come a realization one day that there is no easy way out, no clear cut plan, but Techno holds his tongue for now. Ranboo can learn that lesson on his own. 

“Here,” Hiraeth says, “how about I send a servant with you to go check out your new room and get ready? We can have dinner together like a family tonight, for the time being you can go relax and get changed. Have a bath even, if it’ll make you feel better.”

“You know what? I’ll stay with him.” Technoblade says and he grimaces at the happily surprised face on Hiraeth, “let him get uh, acclimated with a familiar face.”

“Of course, of course. Please, enjoy your time together.” 

He is  _ not _ doing this for the kid.

\--

He is in fact doing this for the kid. 

It’s incredibly awkward, the two of them sitting there. Ranboos room is smaller than his own and much bearer but the latter will change over time. Or not. Hopefully Ranboo won’t be around long enough to earn personal items and a collection. 

“So uh,” the kid begins and he is fumbling this social interaction just as badly as Techno is, “you’re Technoblade.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Was that guy your boyfriend?” 

“Nope.” 

“.....okay, so not boyfriend. Husband?” 

“I have absolutely no romantic feelings towards that man.” 

“Brothers?”

Technoblade fixes Ranboo with an unimpressed gaze, quirking his eyebrows up on his face, ‘ _ really?’  _ on clear display. “If I could kill that man, I would.” 

“Then why don’t you?” 

“This stupid thing,”  _ don’t call it stupid it was a gift it was meant in goodness it’s not stupid it’s not stupid it’s not stupid- _ his mind hisses at him as he gesutres to the choker and Techno pushes down the urge to take it back because it’s no longer just him anymore. There’s a boy Tommy’s age here and the idea of the kid staying here even a second longer doesn’t feel right. It feels worse then whatever the hell this internal battle going on is, “does something to me. I just.. Can’t. Bit of a shitty explanation but I’ll try and then just not. Or fade away. Or feel bad about it even though logically I shouldn’t. It’s a nuisance.” 

“I could uh, I could take it off?” Ranboo says nervously, licking his lips and Technoblade’s chest revolts from that thought while his mind screams  _ yes yes yes _ . He opens his mouth to say yes, has it at the very tip of his tongue, but stops. Why isn’t he going for it? Why isn’t he telling Ranboo yes? To do so right away?

Why is he like this? 

(It is a scary thing, losing control. To have your options ripped away from you in the span of a second. You are spiraling and unable to land, unable to control your descent. You do not even get to choose if you crash. What are we without our autonomy? What are we when our basic senses are stripped away? Are we still even people, then? Or just living dolls? Husks that still breathe and eat?

Helen contemplated that many nights as she gazed up at the night sky. She was a doll to be passed around and around until no one wanted her anymore, until she was too broken to be shown off like fine china.

Technoblade pauses and unknowingly takes a page out of her book when he is struck with these thoughts:  _ don’t think about it. If you can’t fix it then don’t think about it. _

He fails.) 

  
  


His mouth is hung open like a deceased frog and Technoblade knows that if Philza were here he’d get a joking comment about catching flies so he shuts his mouth and takes a deep breath. “How did you end up here?” he asks instead because that is something Technoblade can talk about. That is something that doesn’t send his brain into a tizzy. 

“He said there was a tournament he was hosting on a private server. A competition and I mean, he’s been around on Hypixel long enough that I know he’s legit. Or was legit, anyways. I went to go talk to him and I don’t….. I don’t remember anything else.” 

“That’s uh, rough kid, I’m sorry-” 

“ _ I don’t remember anything else _ .” Ranboo whispers, tears beginning to fall down his face as his breath speeds up a pitch, “ _ I don’t remember anything else. I’m going to forget them.” _

“Uh. What.”  __

Techno cringes at inflamed skin he can see coming from the tear tracks on the kids face and wonders what the hell is in his body to produce that. He’s not…. good at this. The touchy feely stuff. That was always Phil and Wil’s thing while he and Tommy awkwardly patted people on the back before moving on.

“Look kid, breathe.” Technoblade says, poking Ranboo on the knee, “if you keep that up you’ll hyperventilate.” 

It takes a moment for his words to come through but Ranboo nods and wipes at his eyes still leaking tears, avoiding eye contact between the two like it personally murdered his family. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“You don’t gotta apologize for something like that, but what the hell was that about just now?” 

“Um, my memory is not good. I have short term memory loss, but not really? I can remember most things but some stuff I need prompting to remember and some things I just forget. Stress usually makes it worse and I have a book with me to help me remember, y’know? But..”

“But?” 

“He’s going to make me forget them, isn’t he?” and it is said in a melancholy, heartbroken grief that Techno thought only existed on the pages of a novel of an author with too wide an imagination, “I’m not going to let him! I’m going to cling on because I can’t forget Eret or Niki o-or Fundy and Hbomb, except he’s going to try and make me forget and I don’t know how long I can keep onto them and…:

And the kid is crying again. Fuck. 

“If I forget them, they’ll hate me won’t they?” 

What. 

“They’re the only good things I have in life and they’re gonna get taken away from me but I - I won’t go down without a fight.”  _ I’m not gonna be you _ was left unsaid but still hung in the air, even if Ranboo didn’t mean for that to be. 

“Look..” Technoblade sighs, looking at the teenager in front of him. Snot covered his face and tears were still coming from his eyes and he was a mess. He was a mess and Technoblade was shit at cleaning up messes even when he had the proper tools. 

“Why don’t you go have a bath?” he suggests, fingers curling in his lap. He doesn’t know how else to help.

“I can’t.” 

“You… can’t have a bath?” Technoblade repeats, feeling a little dumbfounded.

“Water uh, hurts me. Burns. I use ointments and moisturizers instead of having a full on bath.” 

“Huh.”   
  
“What?” 

“Nothing it’s just - at what point does a liquid stop being water enough to not hurt you? Like if you bathed in jello would that have any effect?”

“I’m gonna be real here, I have absolutely no clue. A lot of it is trial and error when it comes to this. I don’t think It would? But I haven’t bathed in jello before so i don’t really know.” 

  
  


(Here is the truth: nothing in reality is real. Everything is made up and there is not a thing as a concrete truth. One means one because we claim it so when it just as easily could mean two. Each item, each concept and idea was crafted by quiet minds evolving under moonlit stars. Humanity is composed of the ignorant clinging onto each other in hopes of understanding. 

We forge our own meaning through hard work and personal decision. We are blank states with each moment of life, each breath we take, imprinted into our skin. We are nothing and everything and it is important to remember that cruelty and kindness are two sides of the same coin.

That is a coin Cassandra precariously spins as Troy falls around her.)

\--

Servers away a door gets pushed open and two more teens storm inside, one carefully closing the door behind them. 

“What the hell is going on?” one asks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! Update Pog!! Ty for all the nice comments everyone it means a ton and actually gets me to update faster!!! Sweet, sweet serotonin things.   
> I'm working on two other fics rn (a perseus techno and phil fic + a gods fic) so i was thinking about maybeee making a discord for those? I dunno if it'd be of interest but you can probably get sneak peeks of my work + @ed when I update. Again depends on if people want it or not!


	8. LATE UPDATE POG

There is a well known thought experiment in Philosophy called the trolley problem. 

In the trolley problem there is a trolley that is barreling down the tracks at a momentous speed. On the tracks there are two sets of people tied down and unable to move, a group of five and a single, lone person. There is no time to stop the trolley. There is no way to get them out of the way. The only thing you are able to do is pull a lever that decides if the trolley kills five people or one.

There is no way to save everyone. 

It is a question that is supposed to challenge morals and what constitutes as ethical. Do the needs of the mass outweigh the needs of the few? Do lives all have the same inherent value? Are you obligated to pull the lever or let carnage take its course? 

Are you morally obligated to play God?

But here is a question: what if you divert your eyes from the trolley and its tracks? What if you flee from thought and sense and run? Does a tree falling make a sound when there is nobody there to hear and does a life end when you turn your eyes away? Close your ears and flee?

And what if you were one of those people on the tracks? What if you were the lone person up against the five? If you could stare them in the eyes would you feel their guilt at their hope that you die and not them? Do you think they can feel yours? 

Here is an interesting thing about the trolley problem, the majority of people answering will say to kill the lone person instead of the five. When that lone person is a loved one though, the answers change. 

At what point do you get to constitute as a loved one?

\---- 

Ranboo picks up the silver steak knife and begins to cut slices off the medium rare steak in front of him as his mind yells out  _ what the hell am I doing here? _

It’s just…. It’s odd. All of it. His emotions swing wildly between freaking out and calm acceptance and he doesn’t know what to do. He kinda wants to laugh? This is the best steak he’s ever had and Ranboo so badly wants to turn to the left and offer Fundy a piece but then reality hits and right - there is no Fundy there. There is no Niki or Eret or Hbomb next to him and this isn’t a really weird themed restaurant in Hypixel and oh right - he’s been kidnapped. He’s eating dinner with an odd man and Technoblade who has also presumably been kidnapped and this is his life now. 

What the hell has become of his life, actually?

(“If the crown fits, wear it!” he said proudly a few weeks ago. Is this where it all went downhill? Or was he cursed since the day he was born to be thrown down again and again and  _ again _ .) 

“Ranboo,” The strange man says, clearing his throat and Ranboo’s head snaps up to attention, “you’ve settled in and everything, correct?” 

Ranboo nods stiffly because his vocal cords tighten and his eyes sting at the thought of replying. Is.. is he supposed to thank him or something? Compliment the room? What are the social rules for this? What is he supposed to  **do?**

“Good… good. Tell me, what do you think of this place so far?”

“Uh, it’s uhm,”  _ say something say something say something he’s looking at you SAY SOMETHING-  _ “it’s… fancy?”

The man lets out a chuckle, smiling, “it is rather fancy, yes. I pride myself on surrounding myself and the ones I love with fineries. What is the new thing? Love languages? My love language is gifting and ensuring happiness you could say.” 

Cutlery clinks against the porcelain plates and the man passes his empty wine glass off to a servant who whisks it away without a single glance. They remind Ranboo of mechanical gears, ticking away and doing everything in sync but never rusting. What happens when one of the gears rust? 

Dessert is brought out and it’s a sort of cake Ranboos never had before. It’s spongy but also slightly sour and sweet at the same time and it’s just confusing his taste buds. It’s good though, he thinks. Maybe. He doesn’t really know. 

He wants Niki. 

He wants to go home and pet his cat, having Enderchest purr and rumble against his chest like an inky motorboat. Eat those flaky strawberry croissants Niki got him from a new bakery that just opened down the street and be on call with Fundy and Eret until three am discussing if geese have rights or not. 

He does not want this.

“Ranboo,” the man -  _ Hiraeth _ , his mind reminds him sharply - says, speaking up, and Ranboo stares down at his empty plate in hope Hiraeth will forget about him and change the subject, “Ranboo, my boy, look at me.”

His head tilts and Ranboo settles his gaze onto Hiraeth’s chin, nodding softly towards the man in lieu of a response.

“Ranboo, I know this is a lot to deal with,” Hiraeth says, leaning forward, “this is probably rather frightening, yes? I apologize profusely. I have been unfair to you. I have been cruel and it was never my intention to be so. You are my son and it is unacceptable how i’ve treated you.”

“I’m… i’m your what?” 

“My son, Ranboo. You are my son.” Hiraeth says, unaware of the dripping, acidic void he’s left in Ranboo’s chest, “you don’t have to call me father, not yet. I know this is new and frightening and I promise you - I  _ promise _ you - that it will get better. I will get you an updated wardrobe soon, and have your own selection of tutors brought forward. You will be happy here.” 

“I don’t, I uhm, I don’t….. I’m really sorry but you’re not my dad. If you want a son you should go adopt one not uh, take me.”

Ranboo doesn’t remember his parents - not in ways that actually matter. He remembers calloused fingers and stained glass windows and the wafting smell of cinnamon coco in the air. He remembers warmth and security and living room pillow forts but he doesn’t remember their faces - only that they were there. That they existed, in a way. 

He doesn’t remember his fathers name but he does remember how Eret always checks back on him when they go out in public. He doesn’t think he has any siblings but he remembers how Niki will hold his hand and Fundy will show him his new device. He’s never had an uncle - this he’s pretty sure of - but he remembers how Hbomb will offer advice unasked for and unadvised but needed at the same time.

Ranboo doesn’t remember his family but he  **_does._ ** He’s not a stray puppy or orphan left in a box on the street. He’s wanted and loved for and he can’t - he can’t let them go. He can’t let Hiraeth think he’s just forgotten about everyone he loves just to play a twisted game of family.

He looks at Hiraeth and Ranboo expects cruelty in return but his stomach twists when he sees Hiraeths eyes soften in pity and a frown tug at his face. 

“Oh, oh my poor boy.” Hiraeth says, and what sticks out is how heart wrenchingly sad he says it, like Ranboo is a baby that was found in a trashcan or a puppy left in a bag to drown. “My poor, wonderful boy. I’m sorry. You must be so terrified.” 

_ I am _ , Ranboo thinks,  _ I am terrified. I am scared and worried and whatever this is - whatever you’re doing - it’s freaking me out even more than just ignoring how I feel. I’m angry and frustrated and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.  _

“How about tonight I get Elaina to make you some hot chocolate and then I can tuck you in. In the morning we can go for a walk in the gardens after breakfast and then discuss names.” 

“I don’t…” will he even listen if Ranboo tells him no? Will Hiraeth just do it anyways like everything he’s done so far or does Ranboo get a say in any of this? “What do you mean by discussing names?” 

“For you, of course.” 

“I’m sorry but I... don’t follow. I have a name, it’s Ranboo? Or is this uhm, a rich person thing?”

Hiraeth chuckles softly, fondness infecting his tone, “Ranboo is your name now, yes. Tomorrow though we’ll settle in on a new one.” 

“But... my name is Ranboo? I already have a name?” That is - that is the one thing he’s sure of. Everything else can get spotty but his name is Ranboo, he’s a minor and that is who he is. That is who he is. 

“Did you name yourself Ranboo?”

“I don’t…. think so? Um, I’m pretty sure my parents named me that.”

“Exactly,” Hiraeth says, adjusting his posture, “parents name their children. Fathers name their sons. You’re now my son and as such I shall be naming you. Since you’re not an infant you’ll have a say in the matter of course. I’ve been leaning towards Zachary, Charles or John but this can be further discussed in the morning.” 

“You can’t just change my name,” Ranboo says numbly, mind whirring because  _ what the fuck? _ “You’re not my father you can’t just - you can’t just do this.” 

“Except I am, my boy. I am.”

And that’s what came down to it at the end of the day, wasn’t it? 

\--

“What the fuck! What the absolute FUCK dad!”

“Tommy, calm down-”

"You lied to me!"

"We did  _ not _ lie to you," Philza says and his voice is harsh and sharp but still soft and it is entirely too much Phil, "we didn't tell you what was going on because we didn't want to worry you." 

"He's my brother too! Not worry me my fucking arse, I deserved to know this information. I should have been kept in the loop with this." 

"You're sixteen years old and-" 

" _ I'M NOT A FUCKING CHILD! _ " Tommy yells and he cannot breathe because this is excruciatingly wrong. He is - angry. Technoblade is his brother and Tommy could've helped. He could've done fucking something even if it was just bringing people snacks but they cast him aside and let him be fucking useless twiddling him thumbs because they still see him as a seven year old who hides behind his fathers robes. "Techno was competing in tournaments when he was younger than me and you didn't care! You had absolutely no right to keep this from me. None at all." and if Tommys voice drips acid at the end of the sentence no one in the room brings it up. 

Family does not have to be blood. Family is chosen and made up of those who you love, and who love you back. Is it made of shared experiences and sundown laughter and bestowed trust. 

Family is life and love and when it comes down to it, there are lengths you go to protect it.

There are lengths you go to for it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve Been Gone So Long. I Am So Sorry. I’ve been focusing a lot of my time on hobbies and school so this fic kinda went on the backburner ngl. Doesn’t help that my brain kept on churning out ideas for future fics that I had to write basic plots for and then chuck em to the back of line so I didn’t fail Philosophy. Anyways!! I hope you enjoy this chapter update<3
> 
> also bonus points to people who realize where i got the ideas for Ranboos names from


End file.
